


The Burden of Command

by kayura_sanada



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Asexual Lavellan, Asexual Solas (Dragon Age), Canon Compliant, Canon Compliant Until the End of the Game, Character Study, Character with Albinism, Child Abuse, Dom/sub, Eventual Self-Acceptance, Friendship, Internalized Albinophobia, Internalized Aphobia, M/M, Perceptive Lavellan, Romance, Slow Burn, Submissive Lavellan, dominant solas, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:46:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27215143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayura_sanada/pseuds/kayura_sanada
Summary: The rift was gone. Though the snow and falling sky both burned his eyelids, they were so comparatively harmless that he felt an immediate relief. He looked at his hand, ignoring the way the glow of his palm still burned his eyes. It didn’t look any worse than it had when he’d last seen it. He glared at the elf. “What did you do?”The man adopted such a sudden and pervasively innocent stance it made alarm bells blare in the back of his mind. “I did nothing,” he said. Kios barely contained the curl of his lip. “The credit it yours.”No. The supposedly guileless shrug, the immediate deflection, the small, harmless smile he gave as he spoke. The way he deliberately motioned toward Kios, creating a physical deflection as well as a verbal one. He was lying.This man was dangerous.----------------All his life, Kios had been waiting. He just hadn’t known it. AKA The story where Solas is both asexual and dominant, and Kios Lavellan is both asexual and submissive.
Relationships: Fen'Harel | Solas / Mage Male Lavellan, Fen'Harel | Solas/Male Lavellan
Kudos: 7





	1. Day By Day, I Find My Way

**Author's Note:**

> I alter dialogue from its original, if only slightly, whenever it doesn’t match Kios’ character. So anyone who wants to complain that I get Lavellan’s lines wrong – I know what I’m doing. I’m creating a character. Now! Moving on!

“Freak!” little Enasal shouted. The first rock sailed through the air with all the accuracy of a training archer. It traveled the twenty meters between them and hit his shoulder.

“Freak!” his little friends echoed, each picking up rocks in turn, now that they’d seen Enasal do it without an adult intervening on Kios’ behalf. Most threw. Some missed.

Kios gritted his teeth. He held out his hand. Enasal paused for a split second, his face contorting into an angry sneer. If, Kios imagined, the air around him was a web – if the world could be walled off between him and everyone else – there. With the idea of a web came the manifestation of his wishes. All the rocks halted mid-flight, trapped in the suddenly still air between them. He grimaced; the more he tried to concentrate on his aim, the more his gaze slid to the right. His focus snapped back, over and over, until everything turned into a blur. The others were starting to move, recovering from their surprise. With a grunt, he let the rocks fly away. Back toward the other children.

The kids screamed. There was some satisfaction in that, although none seemed to be screaming in pain. The bombardment ended, and for a moment, only silence remained. Then came the laughter.

“What was that?” Enasal called. The fuzzy image of the boy bent over at the waist at the force of his laughter. “Ooh! So scary! A mage who can’t even aim!” The other kids joined in, until holding his head high started to hurt. “Here! Let me show you how it’s done!” Enasal threw another rock. The net worked again; Kios managed once more to catch the rock mid-flight. This time, however, he simply let the rock drop. It thunked to the ground, though he could not place where. Let them fall; he couldn’t hit Enasal back. Not from so far away.

He barely saw the second rock before it hit him. Enasal laughed again as Kios’ head snapped back, clutching the side of his face. The rock had been jagged; it had hit his upper lip and fallen, but the damage was already done. Before he could recover, another rock hit, curving up even as Kios turned his head to try to protect his face. The rock barely missed his eye. Blood gushed into Kios’ mouth and down into his left temple, blanketing his vision. He hit the ground. Inside his mouth, he felt something hard against his teeth. He spat it out. A gap in his mouth told him he’d just lost a tooth. He hoped it was one of the few baby teeth remaining.

He pushed himself back up, head ringing, blood sliding wetly over his eyelid and down his cheek. “Ew!” Enasal said. “Now he really _does_ have bloody eyes!” The insult began another round of cackles and snorts. “Get on your knees and apologize for being gross, Blood Eyes!”

Kios’ legs buckled. He hit the dirt and lowered his head, his body trembling from the power of Enasal’s words. He sucked in a breath. His lips trembled open. “Sorry I’m gross,” he said through the blood pooling in his mouth. The other children burst out laughing all over again, so hard many clutched their sides.

Kios glared up at them. The effect was lost with only one eye open. His head pounded; his lip felt torn in two. With only one available eye, he could barely see the distance between him and Enasal, let alone the others. But he didn’t need to. Kios could see him, his dark black hair braided down his neck, his skin dark red-brown like everyone else in the _aravel_ , his wide, white-toothed grin. He could hear him, the laughter that started all over again the instant someone parroted his insult and order.

Enasal wanted red? He would get red.

Kios’ hands burned.

* * *

He squinted out between the sparse trees hiding the _aravel_ from human eyes. Without the usual canopy – further proof that they were too far from the forest’s heart to remain safe from humans – his eyes were straining from the sunlight. A headache pounded slowly to life behind his unnatural eyes.

Keeper Deshanna spoke to Elder Marellia, both of them speaking softly outside the keeper’s tent. He watched only long enough to ensure the topic of discussion; from the usual frown of her brow and wild gesticulations, it was Marellia’s common complaint, specifically that the grass of the area wouldn’t suit the hallas’ palette. He dismissed her unimportant concerns for the larger one.

The keeper, for the past several weeks, had been leading the caravans ever closer to the humans’ settlements. Certainly, they would sometimes trade with humans the nearer the cold months came, but they had no need to do so this year, nor any real inclination to do so, considering the ever-increasing hostilities between the humans’ mages and mage handlers – mage killers – known as templars. Considering how willing said templars were to target _aravels_ like theirs the instant they saw an opportunity, Kios had to wonder at Deshanna’s decision. To ignore the danger had to mean she believed something about the action necessary. Why bring them so close to danger?

Why, to gain secrets about the enemy, of course.

Deshanna had yet to speak with him about it, and if she was speaking to someone else on the issue, she was doing a rare excellent job of keeping him out of the loop.

He watched Marellia for a moment longer; she would keep the keeper busy for a while, as she always did. Deshanna sighed a bit before turning a quick glance his way. He lifted a brow. She shook her head.

She didn’t want to be rescued, then, even though she clearly wished to speak with him. That was fine. There were still many jobs to accomplish before the _aravel_ bunkered down for the night. He would keep himself occupied until she decided to tell him what he already knew.

* * *

“Kios.”

Night had come, and with it a respite from the gnawing headache. Marellia had taken enough of Deshanna’s time to demand Kios attend both the retelling of the peoples’ tales and the nightly ritual to fend off Fen’Harel. The keeper looked tired and fed up – the usual reaction to Marellia’s antics. Still, she stood tall, her staff in hand, graying hair pulled sharp in her bun. As if ready to face battle.

He cocked his head. So. She’d decided to tell him.

He followed her out to the outskirts of the _aravel_. He heard a slight shifting above them – Brem, settling in for a good eavesdropping instead of focusing on his duties as lookout. Kios slammed the tree with the base of his staff. “Move,” he said. Brem groaned and slid down from the tree, moving away. Both he and the keeper waited until he was gone. “Whatever the outcome, it will only end badly for us to get involved.”

Deshanna sighed. “Well, it’s no surprise,” she said, seeming to speak more to herself than to him. “You always seem to know me.”

He didn’t speak to that. It wasn’t just her he kept an eye on; it was everyone. An old habit that had never failed to come in handy. “What exactly do you intend with this?”

She looked him square in the eye, just as she had when they’d met, back when he was nearly ten. The first who’d ever done so. “I want you to go to the meeting the humans are having between their mages and their templars.” He had already deduced as much. “We need to know how the meeting goes, whether to expect peace, war, or–”

“Or the templars being given free reign to begin a mage purge.” Deshanna nodded. Kios’ lips thinned, hard enough for him to feel the deep recesses of the old scar on his upper lip. The humans. If their templars were allowed to kill every mage they met, there was no doubt in his mind that several would turn their attentions to the Dalish and their mage leaders. Humans were always very quick to try to force their ideals on the world, especially on the world of elves.

That alone would be reason enough to go, he supposed. He could understand Deshanna’s curiosity, as well. The human chantry had always been united in its bigotry. Was that now under flux? Were humans about to show their first inkling of acceptance? Or were they about to collapse under their own intolerance?

“The templars are not all, however,” Deshanna noted. He tilted his head. “Humans have always been quick to blame elves for their grievances. We will be attacked, certainly, or at least vilified even worse for having mages as our leaders. But the other elves will be treated far worse. Whenever humans gripe, elves are the ones who suffer.”

His gaze scanned over his _aravel._ The children had gone to sleep over an hour ago, each sung to in turn, or perhaps given a softer, sweeter rendition of the night’s story. Each parent, teenager, and elder still awake sat or walked near the fire, sharing stories and laughter. Here, under Deshanna’s guidance, camaraderie was the staple of the night, brighter even than the waxing moon shining brilliant between the tree boughs.

He, however, knew better than to believe all _aravels_ were like this. The only reason human intolerance was more dangerous was because of their reach.

Still, she was right. Humans were even worse than the worst _aravels_.

“You want me to spy on them.”

Deshanna didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

They both knew what it meant. If he was caught, he would be killed. If he was found to have magic, he would likely be killed or dragged away, if not to a circle (since those were said to not exist anymore), then to be made Tranquil, a human torture that created puppets out of people. Even if he wasn’t caught on approach, or even within the building, the chances of hearing what he needed to hear were slim. He stood out, in more than one fashion. No amount of subterfuge could hide his _otherness_. Even without his vallaslin, he would stand out among those at the meeting. And then as he attempted to retreat? What were the chances that he could do so?

Still, he had to try. This wasn’t just for the clan. It was for all Dalish. The humans had never hesitated to drag elves into their wars before. If recruiting didn’t work, then purging often did. The Dalish needed to know the danger. Deshanna could set up an emergency meeting with whatever news he brought back to the clan. One life was more than enough.

He also understood her choice to send him. He may not have been a scout, but his magic could help him battle his way through, and his particular skills could still help him get through without getting caught. The keeper couldn’t afford to leave; they had no Second.

For that, and for other reasons, it was best if he went. He thought for a moment, going over the scant pieces of information he’d picked up on their travels. “If I recall correctly, the meeting is taking place soon. And across the sea,” he noted.

“I’ll ensure your arrival. From there, it will be up to you.” Kios nodded, his mind already on the task ahead. Undoubtedly, she would ask the human merchants they traded with to help him across, spinning some story about needing to get in touch with a clan down south. For the actual journey, however, he would be expected to be… normal. He would have to take one of his strongest hoods, perhaps two. His eyes and skin would make him different enough without the vallaslin to complete the look. Even if that weren’t a problem, he would have to contend with the shine of the sun off the long waters.

This was going to be a nightmare.

“Kios.”

He blinked several times. Deshanna took a single step forward, until she was no longer in that in-between space where focusing became more difficult for him. With her so close, he could see the shadows spearing lines across her face, casting deeper age into their depths. She was getting old. “I will be careful, _lethallan._ You needn’t worry.”

The frown did not fade. Her gaze slid to his left temple – to the scar. She reached out. Slowly, he did, as well, until she was holding his hand in her own. “You are family, _lethallin_. Know that wherever you roam, you do not walk alone.”

He gave her a small smile. “I’ll come home as soon as I can.”

* * *

Light. Searing, burning, blinding light, and a pain that crackled like lightning up every nerve ending. He hitched in a breath. The sound was enough to make someone near him move. He slitted his eyes open. Darkness. At least the area around him was dark; a searing green light burned within the black. Further away flickered the familiar light of torches. Enough to illuminate the bars of the cell he was trapped within, and the figure of a human standing just outside.

So. He’d been caught.

He would love to know how, or why. He grunted as he tried to sit up. The guard outside turned on him, sword already out. Wonderful. “Stay where you are,” the human ordered. “One false move, and I’ll slice you through.”

He ached. Every single muscle. Exactly what did the fool think he was going to do?

The light shone brighter. It was, of course, the first thing he noticed. Second was the pain. It ricocheted up his arm from his left hand, shot through his shoulder up his neck into his teeth, then down his chest. His hand felt like he was clutching an open flame.

He looked down. Oh, he thought, his mind slightly faint. That would be because he was.

The humans made a show of their execution; they brought in more guards, and three stood over him, swords drawn, as two manacled his hands to a bar. Then they made him march into the main room of the dungeon and kneel, only to step back and, as they murmured among themselves, await their leader to decide what was to be done with him.

He watched it all play out in silence. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall what had happened to lead him up to this point. He remembered his trip across the Waking Sea, the churning waves and the side glances as he huddled, acting feeble and weak, in his cabin, procured for him by Keeper Deshanna’s efforts with the humans in a small town off the edge of the Free Marches. He remembered getting off the boat and being pushed by some human who had thought it would be funny to bully the weak elf. He remembered stabbing that human in the neck later that night, as he’d tried to come around and push him again.

The trek to the Conclave had been a long one, and he’d had to go nearly without rest in order to make it in time. Even then, he’d struggled to get inside; by the time he’d arrived, many had already entered. It had taken him hours to cross the threshold of the temple. Inside, however, most had taken their places, and some halls had been completely empty. There’d even been secret passageways, for some reason.

He remembered taking one of those secret passages. He did not remember anything after that, until… small, vague flashes, each as green as the thing on his hand. Running. No breath, no air, but still needing to _move_. Panic, like he hadn’t felt in years. Something behind him. Something dark and dangerous. But what? And how had he gotten from the Conclave to there? And how had he escaped? He didn’t remember getting away. All he remembered was a woman, some human woman, and a bright light. Bright enough to burn his eyes and make him scream in pain.

There were too many humans in the dungeon for him to have even a chance of escape. His weapons had been taken from him. He was surrounded. And whoever led these _shemlin_ was about to come and sentence him for the crime of existing within a human’s space.

He looked down at his hand, then quickly looked away as his eyes watered. Whatever had happened, one thing remained far too clear. He would be asked where he was from. Who he was with. Who had sent him.

He had to protect his clan. No matter what.

Two humans stepped in, unsurprisingly female. The guards had helpfully directed him to face the door, so he was given the opportunity to watch them as they approached. Oddly enough, the guards retracted their weapons as the first came near. He might have thought her in charge, but there was something about how the other slowly followed, her gaze trained on him. She was overseeing the first one’s actions.

The first charged right up to him, only to circle around to his back. He stilled, watched as well as he could out of the corner of his eye. The hidden leader came closer, but it was the one behind him who leaned down and spoke. “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” Before he could even snort, the woman stood straight and walked back around to face him. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead.” She pointed at him. “Except for you.”

This was news. Their reaction to such events, however, was pathetically unsurprising. “And you think I’m the one responsible.”

The woman snatched up his arm. “Explain this.”

The damn thing flashed as if waiting for its moment. He winced before he could stop himself. “I can’t.”

She threw his hand back down and started pacing around him again. “What do you mean you can’t?”

Now they were both getting in on the pacing action. He stopped bothering to follow their movements and closed his eyes. The light was bringing on a raging migraine. “I don’t know what it is or how it got there.”

“You’re lying!” The woman grabbed him up by the front of his shirt. He let her; she was now close enough to kill before the others could stop him.

He didn’t know if she sensed his intent or simply wanted her minion to cease, but the shadow leader came forward and grabbed the angry woman’s arm, pulling her back. “We need him, Cassandra.”

Ah? That was news, as well.

The woman turned back to him. He looked at her. She was still tense. Still ready to attack. But apparently they intended something of him. Despite himself, his curiosity urged him to continue listening. That was what finally urged him to speak his case properly. “Whatever it is you think I did, I’m innocent.”

The woman faced him full on, without the aggressive stance her minion Cassandra was producing even then. “Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

Finally. Someone who spoke Common. “I remember running,” he said. “Things were chasing me, and then… a woman.”

It made little more sense aloud than in his head. Without more clear understanding of what he was remembering, vague information was for the best. A sense of cooperating, without saying anything that might lead to aspersions cast upon him. Aspersions that could lead to death.

“A woman?” The leader asked, sounding taken aback.

“She reached out to me, but then…” The light. He gritted his teeth just thinking about it. Light was his weakness, thanks to his cursed eyes. Had the woman been in trouble, or had she been trying to drag him back? Had it been wise to bring her up? One would think, under normal circumstances, that someone reaching out to another must have meant, if nothing else, they’d been allied with him. But these were not normal circumstances, and _shemlin_ were always quick to think the worst of elves.

Cassandra moved to her leader, actually stepping into her space until the leader was further away from him. She stepped in between the two of them. He tensed again. “Go to the forward camp, Leliana.” Casandra looked at him. “I will take him to the Rift.”

Rift. The way she said it – like there was only one rift she could ever be speaking about. Despite the fact that Leliana had taken a leadership role throughout their time in this prison with him, the woman did as ordered. He no longer understood the power dynamics here.

Cassandra stepped back into his personal space. He lowered his gaze, ready to attack the instant she drew out her sword. Instead, she knelt down before him and yanked up the bar around his wrists once more. This time, however, she pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the cuffs. Then, for some reason, pulled out rope and tied his hands. He narrowed his eyes. “What _did_ happen?” he asked. Because it must have been something great, to get humans acting so insane.

Cassandra looked up at him. Squinted. Shook her head slightly. She grabbed his elbow and helped him stand. The change was so great from her previous actions, it left him floundering. “It… will be easier to show you.”

She led him through a long stone hallway, dotted on each side by more cells. He’d been placed in the back, in the furthest cell, as if to hide him from the rest of the world. The stone corridor led up into a stairwell, which opened into a large space – a human Chantry, if the pews and statue of their female god-wife was any indication. Humans knelt in prayer stood as they approached. Each had the usual expression humans wore for elves. He bristled at it, every nerve reacting even more to those gazes than to the pain zinging up his arm and through his bones.

A guard opened up the wide double doors for the woman, who plowed straight on through. He followed more slowly the instant he noticed white beyond – snow. He squinted and slid slowly through the doors. The guard glared at him as he passed.

Despite having prepared himself for the snow, he still found himself blinded. He instinctively raised one hand to shield his eyes, only to pull his other arm up with it. He had to duck to hide from the bright green light.

He heaved in a breath. There would be no way to prepare himself for that level of light. He would just have to suck it up if he ever wanted a chance to understand what was happening – or even simply to be able to see an attack approaching. He dared open his eyes. The migraine that had been burgeoning to life in the prison cell now erupted with a vengeance. It blurred his eyesight still further. Yet, despite it, he was able to make out a swirling, massive shape of green in the sky. His gaze failed to adjust enough to it, but it almost looked like a tornado, turned upside down and inside out – swirling up into the sky instead of down toward the ground. A pillar of green rose up from the mountains as if creating a bridge of light. Green lightning crackled within the circling clouds.

All of it was bright and flashing and unnatural, and clearly what had made the humans panic like loose chicks.

“We call it the Breach,” Cassandra said. He turned to her. She’d moved far enough away that he struggled to pinpoint her, but it was clear her back was to him. She stared at the thing in the sky just as he had. “It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.”

A hole into the Beyond?

“It’s not the only such rift,” she said, turning from the spectacle to him. “Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.” She walked back into range, only to hiss and stiffen. “I thought it a trick of the light,” she said. Now that she was closer, he could see exactly what she was staring at – his eyes. “What kind of demon are you?”

He sighed. “This is how my eyes have always been.”

“Bullshit.” She reached for her sword. The guards around her did the same. “They’re red.”

“More pink,” he said. “Though in very low light, they can sometimes seem blue.” He looked at her straight on, not hiding the hue of his unnatural gaze. “You do know demons’ eyes shine green, do you not?”

Her lips thinned. He waited, unflinching, ready to call down magic the instant she pulled out her sword. Finally, after a full minute, she dropped her hand. Her gaze, however, had hardened once more. He lifted his chin. For the moment, she was not attacking. He would use the opportunity to gain more information. “No mere explosion can cause something like that thing,” he said, nodding toward the green vortex in the sky. Distracting her. Thankfully, the desire to speak condescendingly to an elf trumped the human woman’s disgust over his appearance.

“This one did.” She gestured to the thing far above them, then glared into his eyes as if searching for something. “Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

It sounded insane. Unfortunately, he held no information of his own. What the humans told him was all he knew. Which left this Breach thing, a hole into the Beyond that purportedly grew. Then there was the thing on his hand, which glowed the same color as the giant pillar of light. Add to that the strange images of… something. Running, and _things_ chasing him, and a woman. Whatever that thing in the sky was, he’d been in the middle of it. And he’d been lucky to survive.

The light from the Breach intensified. A second later, the pain in his hand turned into a crackle of lightning and exploded. Lightning shot up his neck and down his spine, seizing his legs. He cried out as his knees buckled. He fell to the ground. The light in his palm burned brighter than ever, until he had to close his eyes against it. The migraine in his head pounded into a raging, incessant screech.

As soon as the muscles of his fingers worked again, he closed them against the light. It slipped through the cracks in his skin, but was enough for him to slit his eyes open once more. He sucked in a sharp breath.

Cassandra knelt down before him. “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads, and it is killing you.” Way to wait until _just now_ to tell him! Why wasn’t that the first thing she’d said? Was it so far down her personal list of priorities? “It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

Oh. _Oh._ Of _course_. She wanted to use him. Of course she did. ‘We need him, Cassandra.’ That was what Leliana, the other woman, had said. Finally, he understood what she’d meant. And this one wanted to use this thing against him. Whether or not this thing was expanding with this _Breach_ , whether or not it was truly killing him, the fact remained that the Breach had gotten brighter and the pain had gotten unbearably worse. It could be true – in which case, ‘stopping this’ was his best chance at surviving, which worked out for the humans just fine. It could also be false – fearmongering, used as the pain reached its greatest height. He didn’t know. Cassandra _knew_ he didn’t know. Which meant he was chained more thoroughly than when he’d been in cuffs.

“You say,” he gasped, “it _may_ be the key. To doing what?”

“Closing the Breach. Whether that’s possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is our only chance, however.”

Why on earth would they think this thing could close that giant hole? Where did they get that idea? Or did they intend to throw him into the proverbial fire and hope it consumed him and itself in the process? Because otherwise, her words sounded like nonsense. It seemed more reasonable to assume that whatever had happened had left a piece of that _Breach_ on him, and he was simply tied to it. Dying as the sky was dying. Hoping he could somehow stitch it back together again was folly.

Folly. Or desperation.

Her lip curled. “And yours.”

“You still think I did this,” he said, taking in the look on her face. “To myself.”

“Not intentionally. Something… clearly went wrong.” He snorted. She scowled.

Typical. These humans truly did go out of their ways to blame an elf for their suffering. “And if I’m not responsible?” he asked.

“Someone is,” she said, not answering the question. Good to know these people were anything but his allies. He could hear what she wasn’t saying, of course. Humans wanted to blame someone. An elf was the perfect target. Just as they had been for centuries. “And you are our only suspect.” Of course. “You wish to prove your innocence? This is the only way.”

He sneered. “‘Prove my innocence?’ That’s not how it works.” But of course, _shemlin_ had always been very quick to play judge, jury, and executioner with elves. “You want me to do as you order and don’t care about what happens to me afterward.” He snorted again. “You _shemlin_ are all alike.” He glared up at her. “I’ll go, but not for your bullshit. I don’t care what you humans think of me.” He stood, sealing his lips against the reasons for him to go. He might be able to escape, if he got lucky one more time. If he did, it would be when he was away from this conglomeration of humans, away from this strange place, and hopefully, with as much accurate information as possible.

And if he didn’t escape? Well, then it didn’t really matter where he died. Just so long as his clan was not hunted down because of their association with him.

“Choose whatever reason you wish.” Cassandra stood up as well. Her lips were thin. “So long as you come with us to the Breach.”

She moved behind him and pushed him forward. He stiffened his shoulders and stood tall against the show of force, and the faces of the humans who turned as they passed, once more showing the same hatred and superiority he’d seen countless times before, on humans who had hunted his people down again and again whenever they dared come near a human settlement. Unlike before, however, was the catcalling. The hissing and booing, the threats shouted out, each over the other, without fear of reprimand or reprisal.

This was very much like his treatment when he’d been a child. If he listened carefully, he could almost hear the voices of elven children joining the humans’ jeers.

“They have decided your guilt,” Cassandra said. For a moment, her hand on his back almost seemed protective. How base – humans needing to stand guard over their hated to keep other humans from breaking their heads open before the execution. They should spend more time controlling their own. “They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, Head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars.” Cassandra led him past the town and down a dirt path. It led to a large gate. The snow was falling here, the land packed with white. The sun and Breach combined to play out a dancing landscape of light. Without his hood – confiscated at some point during his seizure – he was left nearly blinded. “She brought their leaders together. Now they are dead.”

It was all information he’d gleaned before ever arriving at the Conclave, before ever even leaving his _aravel_. He didn’t care about the breakdown of human civilization, save for how it would affect his people. He _certainly_ didn’t care about how the breakdown had caused these humans to turn into little better than feral animals, biting at the first newcomer to their group. Speaking about their losses as a reason for why they treated him so barbarously? Excuses. Nothing more.

The gate opened upon their approach. Beyond was a long bridge of stone, manned with humans and lined with crates and barrels. And presumably, a bit further, demons.

“We lash out like the sky,” Cassandra continued. “But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the Breach is sealed.”

Good luck with that, _shemlin_. She had already accused him, imprisoned him, mishandled him, and failed to order silence to those screaming at him. So far, the only one thinking ahead seemed to be the one who’d left – Leliana. This one seemed to be trying to rein herself in, but the very phrase ‘prove your innocence’ had told him exactly where she stood. Even better, her ‘until the Breach is sealed’ caveat proved she held little interest in caring about him once the imminent threat was contained.

Escape just became an even higher priority.

Cassandra stopped moving him forward, instead holding up one hand to stop his progression. She stepped before him and pulled out a dagger. “There will be a trial,” she said. He nearly snorted again. “I can promise no more.” She grabbed his hands, pulled them up, and made one quick slice down, severing the ropes. He rubbed his wrists. “Come. It is not far.”

They were past the other humans, but not by much. He needed greater distance to have a chance at escape. “Where are you taking me?”

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach.”

That was no answer. Once again, she withheld all information, even the simplest pieces. More evidence that what she did tell him was suspect. Of course, ‘testing’ his ‘mark’ on ‘something’ told him enough – more desperation, more insanity. And when he failed this ‘test’? This trial would be a farce. His people needed to be warned.

The humans were already gunning for them.


	2. I Can See You Clearly, Vividly Emblazoned On My Mind

The icy cold was far worse out in the open on the mountains. He and his people had traveled through mountainous regions a few times before, mostly to avoid humans whenever they hunted the woods for an _aravel_ to burn. They’d never climbed to the line of snow, sticking to the edge of the forest and skittering around the loose rocks as they formed into an ever steepening incline. Now, up so high the clouds could nearly be touched, the cold was more than his clothing could protect him from.

He lowered his head and squinted his eyes as he followed the human woman across a human-made bridge. Men shouted as they passed, each calling out orders or information. One shouted of approaching demons. Another spoke of a point below them where the demons were spawning in groups. A third called out about a potion they’d found on one of their fallen brethren. That one was ordered back to the town gates to hand his find to the Chantry sisters inside. A small group of men listened to a human male as he recited a story of their faith.

Kios listened to it all as they passed, Cassandra’s steps quick and concise. A warrior. They approached the far gate on the bridge. Cassandra ordered the gates open. “We are heading into the valley.”

The valley. Kios vaguely recalled a valley, one that stretched across the surrounding area. He knew it led nearly to the gates of a town. This must have been the place called Haven. The town that had once watched over the place where humans believed the ashes of their god-made human woman were interred. A story he and his fellow Dalish had snorted at more than once; how could a person without a body go anywhere, let alone to the place where their god resided? The very fact that their god rested somewhere physical – as the god was said to do, though oddly enough, within the Beyond – meant the god needed a physical body to rest there, as well. Unless they believed their human had become a spirit? Or perhaps that a spirit had taken on the memories of their fallen leader?

He let the idle thoughts rest as they crossed the gate. Fire lay above them on the path, dancing across the snow. His eyes watered so badly tears tracked his cheeks. He moved toward them; Cassandra took step slightly behind him, her gaze only flitting from his back long enough to check on the humans using turned over wagons as defense. Another wagon, he found, was that which had caught flame; bodies lay around it, most untouched by the fire. Whatever had killed those humans, it had not been the fire.

The path they walked was one of stone and snow; a gate sat on his left, keeping him from the edge of the cliff. Dead ahead was the strange green beam of light. From here, he could see giant stones floating along the ridges of that deep hole in the sky. He stared at it as they moved forward, disturbed by how easy it was to fall into the colors and shapes. The entire world seemed to tease his senses, as if everything was getting sucked into the vortex. Yet instead of there being _loss_ , there was something brand new within that destructive force. Those colors didn’t exist in the world. Those shapes, those forms, that – that _call_ , as if something shifted just within the center of the storm – was something beyond their world or, truthfully, anything he’d ever seen in the Beyond. Something _escaped_ from that space. It fell, so bright he had to blink the tears away to see it, and landed with an earthshaking thud.

As if in reaction to the loss, the beam of light frissoned, pulsing so greatly the earth shook. Green lightning sketched the path of the beam, tracing up from the horizon to the sky. His hand sparked in sympathetic fervency. Kios felt the palm of his hand split apart. He screamed. His fingers twitched; his arm spasmed. The pain sprung from his palm up his arm and down his spine. His legs shook. He fell to his knees, he scowled, struggled to get his muscles to work, to lift him back up. Instead they clenched and unclenched so much he couldn’t make them do anything.

Cassandra came to his side and helped pull him back up. “The pulses are coming faster now.” She held him up as his muscles frissoned with the energy from the lightning snapping through his body. Her voice dropped into something almost sympathetic. She even clapped him on the shoulder. She even, he realized with a jerk, looked him in the eyes. She did not flinch away from his eyes again.

Without a word, she turned away again. She took the lead.

They continued moving, following the path. Cassandra finally gave him more information, informing him of the ever-growing breach and its ever-growing rifts, each of which was slowly amassing hordes of demons. While Kios still cared little for the humans’ actions, he quickly realized that, if what she was saying was accurate, then that thing in the sky could easily cause an endless swatch of demons that would eventually spread from here to the rest of Thedas. Even his home, far across the Waking Sea, would eventually become overrun.

Such destruction was unheard of, and its effects too far-reaching to be easily countered. He couldn’t imagine the level of power needed to achieve such a thing.

“How did I survive the blast?” he asked, barely realizing he’d spoken aloud. Nevertheless, Cassandra answered.

“They say you… _stepped out_ of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knew who she was.”

Kios’ brows furrowed. He studied the human’s back. A woman. Did they know if it was a human woman? Perhaps Andruil, leading him to his hunt? Or Mythal, granting him protection? Or was it another victim, like himself, desperately trying to escape whatever had happened at the Conclave?

She continued speaking as he pondered, warning him that everything around the Conclave, including the temple itself, had been laid to waste in the wake of the cataclysm. He stared up at the _thing_ in the sky. He wasn’t surprised.

The path led them to yet another bridge – whoever designed this place had done a poor job – with more men running down the path, shouting commands. He followed after, straining his ears to pick up anything the humans might have been saying. The shards of the giant Breach above them were landing closer now, loud enough to distort anything he might have heard. Not that it mattered. He and Cassandra got about halfway across when one of the meteors hurtled toward them. He barely processed its presence before it slammed into the bridge and broke the ground beneath his feet into splinters. He managed a sharp inhale before he fell onto the broken rubble, then the ice beneath. A sharp edge dug into his side, shoving the air from his lungs. He rolled to a rough stop as rubble slammed onto the ice beside him. He could hardly believe his head wasn’t crushed.

He looked up at the sound of something crashing down in front of him – too far to have been a part of the bridge. It glowed bright green.

He stood. Something beside him moved. He checked, only to see Cassandra getting up. When he turned back to the light, it burst. He squinted. It was taking shape. Even without perfect focus, he could tell it was a twisted form. A demon.

Cassandra ran to face it, her sword and shield out. She shouted as she charged.

He backed away. He could try to fight, but his eyesight was already impediment enough. Without a foci, he was more likely to hit everything – including the human – instead of just the demons. He scowled.

Part of the ice bubbled before him. The bubbles glowed bright, bright green.

_Fenedhis._

He looked around. Boxes and crates and spilled supplies decorated the rubble like baubles. Some glittered in the bright sunlight, glistening even more than the bright white of the ice and snow. He ran toward it all, barely having to search before he spied a few staffs. Most were broken; only one seemed intact. He grimaced. He wasn’t good with staffs, despite his magic. But he needed the foci. He wouldn’t complain.

The demon lumbered forward, its arms reaching for him as he pulled on his mana and clutched the staff tight. The foci on its head glowed, burning his already injured eyes. He gritted his teeth and threw the staff out. It smacked the demon in the face. With a push, he shoved the mana he’d stored in the foci out. It blazed bright fire. He snarled, forced to close his eyes or risk going blind. _This_ was why he hated the foci on top of staffs. They were too big. It burned too bright.

With little recourse, he had to push the demon back a step, using nothing but pure force, as if using his magic like a bludgeon. The moment the demon was far enough away, he swung the staff like a bat. The demon screeched and grabbed the staff. Kios snarled. _Fine._ He burned the thing again, to hell with his eyesight. This time, its screech died out, and the demon fell.

He looked around, squinting to try to see past the wobbling motion of his own eyes and the spots still dotting his vision. It seemed as if the human woman had managed to take down her own demon. Good. He turned to ensure there were no others. Only when it seemed clear did he lower his staff. “It’s over,” he said. For now. Until the next batch dropped from the sky.

The woman turned, her gaze searching, as well, until she saw him. She raised her sword on him and marched forward. “Drop your weapon. _Now.”_

He stiffened. Unbelievable. “Do you really think I need a staff to be dangerous?”

If anything, her scowl deepened, and he stiffened further. “Is that supposed to reassure me?”

“I haven’t used my magic on you yet.” He’d planned on gathering as much information as he could before this inevitable battle, but if she wanted to have it here and now, then so be it. The operative word in his reply had been the word _‘yet.’_

Perhaps she saw the conviction in his gaze. Perhaps logic swayed her from her blind fury. He neither knew nor cared. All that mattered was that, after several heartbeats, she sighed and lowered her sword. After one more interminable moment, he did the same. “You’re right,” she said, and sheathed her blade. He placed the staff on the ground, unwilling to give up his easy access to his foci just yet. “You don’t need a staff, but you should have one.” As if he would have given it up. “I cannot protect you.”

As if he would have relied on this human woman’s protection.

She continued forward, away from the bridge, as if they were merely continuing their journey toward this ‘Breach.’ After only a few steps, however, she paused and looked back toward him. “I should remember you did not attempt to run.”

His eyes narrowed. Yes. She should.

They continued on. Their steps were dogged by demons at every turn; every time they managed to reach new ground, they found another group of shades and wisps. The higher they climbed, the worse it got; they met a rage demon after passing an icy plateau. Kios’ skin was thrumming with energy the further they progressed. His concerns about the humans began to wane as he saw exactly what was happening. They were getting closer to this Breach, and as they did, the demons they met became stronger and stronger. Over time, these more powerful demons would spread. They would cover the entire world.

Whatever these humans had done, it could kill every single clan in Thedas.

The demons were becoming too great for them alone. He doubted their ability to reach the Breach at this rate. The storm above them was picking up, throwing already fallen snow back up into the air. He winced as it swirled around him, turning his already compromised vision nearly completely white. It was around then that Cassandra admitted to having allies in the area. He startled at the news; they hadn’t seen a living human for quite some time. “Who?” he asked.

“You will see soon enough.”

A part of him expected to find nothing but corpses ahead, yet as they continued, he began to hear the sounds of battle. “We’re getting closer to the rift,” Cassandra said unnecessarily. “You can hear the fighting.”

He didn’t respond to that one, instead asking the more important question. “Who’s fighting?” More specifically, how many? And had they been informed that he was not to be killed on sight?

The fighting sounded odd; for all that there were shouts and screams, he could hear very little swordfighting. They had to run up a snowy mountainside before he could hear why – there seemed to be no end to the screams of demons and the crackle of demonic energy, but the sounds of humans – human feet, swords, even the slightly exploding sounds of dying demons – could no longer be heard. The only voice was a gruff one, and all it shouted were directions. “To your left!” “Behind!” “Got your right!” Each followed by strange spring sounds, as if something was being thrown in the air by an extremely heavy bow.

“You’ll see soon. We must help them!” Cassandra shouted, as if he wasn’t already heading straight for them.

If he wanted proper back-up against the rising strength of the demons in front of him, then he needed more humans to defend him. He would obviously prefer them alive.

This close to the rift, shards of the Beyond crashed into the mountain beside them with every passing moment, rendering the world in patches of bright green light. It stung his eyes to the point of watering, even without the help of the snow and the wind. Because of that, he barely noticed the drop-off before him in time, and had to roll to keep from twisting his ankles as he tumbled down the cliff face. He heard someone scream. When he looked up, it was to find a human falling beneath a terror demon’s claws.

He stood back up, ignoring the rips in his pants and pulling out the staff he’d nearly broken trying to stunt his fall as if the thing was one of his old daggers. Despite his rather ostentatious entrance, no one seemed to have noticed him. Behind him, he heard the scrape of gravel before Cassandra landed next to him. Instead of checking his status, she ran forward, clearly intent on helping whoever remained. He, however, had to stand back, squinting his eyes to try to understand just what it was he was seeing.

Bright green masses, taller than everything else on this battlefield, showed clearly the shapes that had to be terror demons. One, however, did not move. A corpse? But it didn’t seem to be falling. And it glowed brighter than the others. Like the charred remnants of the sky.

Several other figures shifted and moved around. Most were hunched, dark. As he dared get closer, he thought he could see long spines poking from the shapes’ backs. Shades? He had seen several on his way here; he thought the dark shapes were likely the low-level demons. But none of the other shapes looked entirely human.

Something small kept running around. He’d never seen such a tiny demon outside of wisps, yet there it was. He prepared to try to attack it when he noticed it was running in opposition to the demons and not trying to attack Cassandra or anything else. He inched closer and heard that gruff voice call out, “on your left! Look out, blondie!”

Kios turned to his left and saw a dark shape racing toward him.

This part was simple. Even with a staff, he could duck down, skirt around the creature, and trick it into thinking the ground was still flat when he placed a careful divot right where his foot had been. The instant the creature stumbled, he hit it in the back, pointed the staff’s foci at the fallen thing, and burned it to ash.

He couldn’t tell who was his enemy and who was his ally. He stuck to the terror demons, leaving the paralyzed one alone for the moment to focus on those still hopping around. The ground beneath his feet glowed so brightly his eyes were blinded. On instinct, he jumped back, swinging his staff forward to blast away the source. A terror demon screeched as he hit it.

Focusing on the creature meant following it through the bright lights of the snow and the ice and the falling shards of the Fade. Tears rolled down his face from the burning in his eyes as he forced himself to look, ignoring the pain in his eyes and the back of his head. He swung his staff, happy it at least allowed him long-range attacks, though he needed to aim carefully. His eyesight blurred and stumbled, constantly shifting back and forth, making it impossible for him to stare unerringly at the demon. He finally had to stop firing and run forward, smacking the demon with the staff as if it was a bo. The demon grabbed his arm, halting his second attack. He grinned and closed his eyes.

Fire burned, so bright and hot it seemed to cut through his eyelids. The demon shrieked, letting go of him as it tried instinctively to run. Kios dared back away, opening his eyes in pain once more to target the moving blaze before him. It managed only one more scream before he silenced it.

He stumbled back, trying to make sense of the battlefield around him. He heard another scream, but it didn’t sound human. He turned just in time to see the small creature – a dwarf, he realized, his brows climbing – lower some sort of contraption. Something before him – another dark, spined something – collapsed.

Kios searched around, trying to find more enemies, but all that remained was the bright, bright green of the frozen creature. He gritted his teeth and raised his staff.

Someone grabbed his hand.

He jerked back, instinctively trying to pull away from the rough fingers curled like a vice around his wrist. He turned to see an elf suddenly in his face, so close Kios could see him perfectly, every pore in his skin and the muted brown shifting within the depths of his eyes. “Quickly,” the elf said, his brows drawn low over his bare face, “before more come through!”

The elf thrust Kios’ hand toward the giant, glowing green blob – an unmoving, glowing thing, and not a terror demon at all! – and the light became so great he flinched and cried out. Just as the light grew, the palm of his hand blazed into a crescendo of flame. He gritted his teeth and rode out the agony, unable to move anymore to try to escape. The grip of fingers on his wrist never faltered.

The light overtook the whole of the world behind his eyelids, turning even the blood in his lids green. Something bright and wide burst from inside him, almost seeming to pull him in. As if casting a net whose end was sewn into his very skin. It reached out like a whip to the void and pulled taut. He ground his teeth together and closed his hand as the pull got worse, instinctively trying to get away. His attempt to escape was thwarted; a deep resistance tugged at him, trying to keep him in front of the hole to the Beyond. He pulled harder, his heart slamming into his throat. As if the net had caught on the handle of a door, the long rope holding him to the blob – the _rift_ , a smaller one than the one in the sky – yanked hard and then _burst_. The void snapped closed – a door slamming shut. The rift disappeared. He felt his body get released from the orbit of whatever had been done to him. He stumbled away, this time able to retrieve distance without resistance. The elf let him go. He dared open his eyes.

The rift was gone. Though the snow and falling sky both burned his eyelids, they were so comparatively harmless that he felt an immediate relief. He looked at his hand, ignoring the way the glow of his palm still burned his eyes. It didn’t look any worse than it had when he’d last seen it. He glared at the elf. “What did you do?”

The man adopted such a sudden and pervasively innocent stance it made alarm bells blare in the back of his mind. “ _I_ did nothing,” he said. Kios barely contained the curl of his lip. “The credit it yours.”

No. The supposedly guileless shrug, the immediate deflection, the small, harmless smile he gave as he spoke. The way he deliberately motioned toward Kios, creating a physical deflection as well as a verbal one. He was lying.

This man was dangerous.

Kios held up his hand, carefully looking just off from his palm in order to mitigate the pain from the brightness. The green light sparked, but thankfully did not yet explode again. He curled his fingers into a loose fist and took a deep breath. Hide. Learn. Then hide what he was learning and see what use it was to him later. “You mean this.”

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand.”

Supposition. While they were clearly connected, two different spells may have been necessary for it. And the way he said it – ‘whatever magic’ – sounded _off_ , somehow. He didn’t know why. No. No, he did. ‘Whatever magic’ argued that it was a type heretofore unseen or unknown. Kios could imagine it to be a type of entropy, or perhaps destruction. ‘Whatever magic,’ however, argued for a different kind entirely. Which also hinted at this man _knowing_ that the magic used was different than any known. More supposition, perhaps, but it was suspicious. Especially considering the man’s actions this past minute.

“I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake – and it seems I was correct.”

Why would it have anything to do with the rifts? Why would simply placing his hand before it work? Why would this person ‘theorize’ – a word that meant _have evidence to suggest_ – that such a thing was possible?

The human woman – Cassandra – had said the same. Considering what this man was saying and the human woman’s quite frankly near non-existent knowledge on magic of any kind, Kios dared infer that the one who’d given Cassandra the insane idea that he could use the thing on his hand to seal the Breach had been this very elf. The question then became, why? And what was in it for him?

“Meaning it could also close the Breach itself,” Cassandra said, coming up beside Kios. There it was; the very thing he’d been ruminating on. He watched the human woman with narrowed eyes. He wished he could watch more carefully, but the snow and the sparking green light were still wreaking havoc on his eyesight, even without the rift. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes when the next flash burst across the sky. His head pounded. Pain ricocheted up his arm.

“Possibly.” Another, even more humble movement; the man put his hands together and hunched his shoulders as he looked, smiling, toward Kios. Kios realized his shoulders were tense, showing his suspicion. He forcibly fixed them, his chest burning as he did so, tight with the effort of controlling his responses. “It appears you hold the key to our salvation.”

Buttering him up? Acting weak and servile? Leading him and these fool humans into an unwitting trap?

 _Enemy. Enemy. Enemy._ It banged like claxons in his head.

“Good to know!” The words nearly made Kios jump. He turned to the dwarf in the group, wearing a horrible open-shirted garment that had to prevent none of the cold winds from chilling him. His chest hair stuck wet to his skin from the snow. “I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.”

Kios endured introductions, memorizing names for his clan later. The most interesting things to see were the rifts between people, more than the rifts governing the mountainside. Varric and the human woman – the ‘Seeker’ – were at odds with one another. Apparently thinking the dwarf to be with the humans and the Chantry was preposterous even to the other elf; for some reason, there were expected personality traits and conformity in working under human religions. To find this Varric was a prisoner, as well, made Kios instantly more curious and agreeable to him, helped along with the ‘Seeker’s’ seconding the information. Which, Kios told himself sternly, could be a ruse.

The elf introduced himself as Solas, doing so last and stipulating that he did so only because of the others’ introductions. “I am pleased to see you still live,” the elf said.

“He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.’”

What he’d _meant_ had been to have one of the others, either the dwarf or the human, hand over that very information in order to help ingratiate himself to Kios. The knowledge made goosebumps skitter up his skin. His spine tingled. This elf was smart. Devious. And Kios had no idea what he wanted, with little power to stop him if it was something that would harm the elves – as this _Breach_ thing would harm the elves.

Kios squinted up at Solas. He was not surprised to see the raised eyebrows, the widened gaze, as Solas took in the color of Kios’ eyes. “You seem to know a great deal about it all.”

Not subtle. To be fair, his head was _pounding_.

“Like you,” the ‘Seeker’ said, interrupting Kios’ attempt at _real_ answers, “Solas is an apostate.”

Kios’ lip curled. If that meant anything, then he would also have knowledge of this kind of magic! Even the human mages would know! Did this woman think the title of apostate granted them knowledge of unusual or arcane magics? What a ludicrous excuse!

And worse, to hear her say the word as if all ‘apostates’ were uncivilized or undesirable. As if it wasn’t simply a word these _shemlen_ used for any magic-user who did not abide by the _shemlen_ religious ideal of imprisoning magic in a cage. Kios was no _apostate_. He was the First of his _aravel_ , trained in the use of his peoples’ magic. The term ‘apostate’ was a human religious term, and one the human woman was far too quick to wield against others to denigrate them.

“Technically all mages are now apostates, Cassandra.”

The words surprised Kios. When he would have forced himself to fume in silence, Solas had quietly castigated the human. Kios stared at him with renewed interest. There was something in the way the elf looked at him now – a sort of technical interest, yes, undoubtedly caused by Kios’ physical aberrations – but also with the gaze of someone who had seen something. Like Kios, this one paid close attention to the world around him. For that short second, they shared a moment in solidarity – two elves, both mages, standing against the might of the human forces breathing down their necks.

Solas seemed to sense this change in Kios’ attitude; he relaxed from his more humble visage and spoke. “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage.”

A way of separating himself from the ‘apostates’ from the humans’ circles? A way of introducing himself as separate from them? Well, if he’d planned to make himself seem more Dalish, he had failed; the use of the term ‘Fade’ was proof enough of that. Still, Kios listened, allowing himself to wonder if that was all it was – the knowledge of someone who had seen more of the world, had studied more of the Beyond. Too easy. The explanation was too easy. “I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin.”

Practical. Acceptable. Yet the explanation had been given too easily, offered too completely, and remained too open-ended. Solas had been able to keep Kios alive. That meant a knowledge of a magic Solas himself had called ‘whatever;’ it allowed him to be close enough to arrive in time to keep Kios alive. He’d been near. And he either knew ‘whatever magic’ had been used, or he did not.

Perhaps he was only protecting himself? Perhaps he, like Kios, was here to ascertain what the humans had caused, and perhaps to find a way to fix it before it affected the elves of the world? From what Kios had seen, these humans were all too happy to kill elves to appease their senses of guilt. If Solas had been there to see that himself, it would only be logical to hide his own knowledge.

Kios would wait and see.

“Cassandra, you should know,” Solas said, turning to the human, “the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen.”

Then how, Kios thought, glaring all over again, had Solas known to throw Kios’ hand at the rift? How had he _theorized_ anything? If this man was a liar, he was bad at it.

“Your prisoner is a mage,” Solas continued, “but I find it difficult to imagine _any_ mage having such power.”

Ah. He was creating a new lie to protect Kios. An… ally, then? Or at least someone who wanted to help ensure Kios’ survival.

Though Kios thought the man a poor liar, he was apparently proficient enough that the ‘Seeker,’ Cassandra, accepted his words. They headed further up the mountain, demons attacking non-stop on the way. The dwarf made himself suspicious by asking the same questions the humans had. Kios carefully uttered the same thing he’d said before, admitting to his loss of memory. The dwarf, however, merely said he “should have spun a story.” Whether he’d been acting on the humans’ wishes to try to verify Kios’ words was something Kios could not yet verify.

They came upon yet another human encampment. Kios hesitated. Approaching this place now, with what appeared to be so many people, would limit his chances to escape. He covered the pause by looking again at his hand.

Whatever was happening, Solas had been right about one thing: the danger was likely to spread. What if it managed to reach even his people? Even if he thought his own _aravel_ , over the Waking Sea, was safe, did that in any way mean the other _aravels_ around the Dales and Frostbacks were? He looked back up, unsurprised to find everyone else staring at him.

He continued forward. He’d been tasked with seeing everything he could about the situation brewing between the human mages and templars. Considering how it had all come to a head, this was even more essential than before. He would have to go further and hope he could escape later.


End file.
